


room 203 (all these secrets i gotta keep)

by killingcve



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, after fighting violently of course, and of course joel, and tommy too, but mainly, instead of people dying in the theater and the aquarium they just fucked, mentions of dina jesse manny and riley, precursor to another fic im writing, they fuck in abbys room at the base, whats the point of this if they arent morally corrupt and descending into mania together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27681974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingcve/pseuds/killingcve
Summary: “Ellie’s stuck between deciding if her vice is the visceral image of Abby wiping her chin after her third consecutive orgasm and pressing her slick thumb past her lips, or if it’s the way she hums into her mouth and the vibration tickles her teeth.When Ellie flounders, spitting out gasps and insults, something one is akin to do after being thoroughly exhausted and overstimulated past the point of recovery.When she blurts, heady and flushed, an intoxicated and irrational laughter lilting her voice, “Stop being so fucking good at that.”Abby breathes into her mouth.“I won’t. Not with anyone,” She adds pointedly, “Not with you.”— OR: The one where Ellie doesn’t let go.
Relationships: Abby/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 107





	room 203 (all these secrets i gotta keep)

**Author's Note:**

> i ended up replaying tlou2 after a hiatus of writing for them and it rekindled my urge to finish this draft that’s been sitting in my docs for four months. if you notice the style change mid fic no you didn’t
> 
> anyways they fuck in secret what a concept.

She’s shoved through the door with all the fanfare of a blink. 

Abby’s seething — the moment they made eye contact in the hall Ellie’s heart rate spiked, and now she’s toe to toe with a very pissed off looking Abby.

Who, by the sight of her, wants nothing more than to crush her body through the masonry of the concrete wall. In Ellie’s defense, she hadn’t meant to see Abby for another few hours; she’d made very sure Abby wasn’t even supposed to be within ten miles of the base after snagging time charts from the inside of an unoccupied lookout station. Ellie originally intended to camp out in her room and wait for her return - at least she’d had the element of surprise that way, preferably with her feet propped up and nose deep in her journal, but alas.

Imagine her surprise when Ellie’s relief of finally getting to room 203 plummeted when she glanced up and saw Abby. Chatting, in the hall, not ten feet away from her. 

At least she feels like she deserves the way the wind is knocked out of her lungs when Abby slams the door behind them and her into it.

And then she’s being bull-rushed. What Ellie doesn’t expect next is the immediacy of Abby charging her—

—and the sudden, electric realization of oh, they’re kissing.

Her hands are frozen in the air for a few moments until her brain catches up and they immediately fly to Abby’s neck to ground herself. Out of everything she expected, the turn of events definitely isn’t unwanted -- even if she was fully prepared to sit in wait for hours until Abby came back, the outcome seems relatively the same, and Ellie praises whatever be that this was Abby’s reaction to catching her sleuthing about.

Even if she’s blistering under the heat of Abby’s anger.

Ellie’s drawn back into the moment when Abby’s teeth bite at her bottom lip and then her tongue plunges through, the transition from sting to hot, wet, warmth choking off the surprised gasp that escapes her mouth. Her back quickly alternates between making contact against wood and arching forwards to press her flush against Abby’s stomach, and it’s in Ellie’s haste to kiss her back that they end up spending several seconds just, well.

Making out. Feverishly.

And Ellie’s purely content in staying that way, frantically pawing at the shirt between her shoulder blades, noisily kissing Abby back until she breaks the seam of their lips and rests her forehead against Ellie’s, exhaling hard.

The ghost of her sigh passes over her bruised lips, swollen and slightly burning, and it’s so intoxicating Ellie has to blink the effect away to understand that there are words coming out of Abby’s mouth.

“Why are you here?” 

When Ellie struggles to swallow around the forearm pressing into her throat, Abby seems to remember herself and drops her arm to the wall beside her head instead, which gives her time to think.

Truth be told Ellie didn’t actually know why she was there. 

She should’ve left Seattle nine days ago with Dina and Jesse. After locating Tommy, amid objection from all three members of the group, she demanded they start the trek through Idaho without her under the promise of meeting up with them later. The premises of the guise were simple — they’d be able to take it slower, set up camp somewhere instead so as not to exhaust the pregnant member of the party. 

What drove Ellie to continue pursuing Abby against all circumstances she didn’t know. But luck strikes where it’s supposed to, she assumes. 

There was something that itched inside her, propelling Ellie towards her at any possible moment, something that begged to have Abby in her sights. And at some point it transcended, beyond Joel and beyond any cognitive grasp of reasoning and all Ellie felt was fuel. The need. So when the opportunity presented itself, and she singled Abby out in an aquarium — well.

It didn’t go how she expected.

In her defense, sleeping with Abby wasn’t high on the list of Ellie’s priorities when she surprised her at gunpoint only five days prior. She fully rehearsed the mantra that’d been cycling in her brain nonstop since Jackson, blinded with fury and rage and on the wrong side of numb until she stood there with the weight of Joel’s pistol heavy in her hands. Stood there, with her mouth agape, blood crashing in her ears and suddenly killing Abby seemed impossible. Futile.

The gun clattered to the floor along with Ellie’s resolve, and they just.

Magnetized.

Over, and over, and over until the only thing she could remember was the white hot press of Abby’s hand between her thighs and the gasp of Abby’s name tumbling from her lips. An explosion of everything pent up over the last few months of Ellie’s life.

And then again, but that time it was Abby who snuffed her out of the theater, rivaling Ellie’s passion and urgency like a woman possessed. After that Ellie didn’t really have an excuse, but there’s decidedly something about knowing what Abby feels like buried knuckle deep that makes the situation entirely more complicated.

She may be damning herself. There’s a fine line Ellie’s dancing when it comes to how much she’s willing to consider the consequences of this -- all she knows is that these past few experiences with Abby have given her the most reprieve she’s felt in months. An escape from the raging inferno of her mind that Abby seems more than willing to provide. 

Abby, whose mouth is a hair’s breadth from her own, and who’s beginning to look irritated at the lack of her answer.

“I was gonna sneak in,” Ellie says instead, bypassing the question entirely. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

A look crosses Abby’s face akin to confusion, probably wondering how Ellie even had that information in the first place, but it passes quickly. “Did anyone see you?”

“No one saw me,” She promises, and the implication washes over them at the same time. Abby glances over at the door handle and almost as immediately as Ellie notices she’s fumbling with the latch until it locks.

“Good,” Abby sighs, only the slightest hint of warning in her tone before there’s a pressure around her thighs. Something in her chest swoops as she’s lifted, a rush of shock escaping her lips in a sigh as Abby lifts her with ease. Ellie’s hiked up carelessly around her waist before she’s pressed back against the wood, Abby’s hand cradling the backside of her head, and everything in Ellie’s system flares.

Fuck, she’s strong.

Abby’s gaze is dark and lidded and that’s the only thing Ellie’s vision clears on before she’s reclaiming Abby’s mouth, hot and incessant, and the groan rewarded from her actions tingles all the way down to her knees. Abby kisses like she’s starved, like the depths of Ellie’s mouth are the only thing that can satiate her hunger, and she feels all the blood in her brain settle in her face before rushing lower. 

Her face burns. There’s a lot happening at once and Ellie’s mind is stuck in an endless chant of Abby, Abby, Abby-- whose fingers press and sting into the curve of her waist, the indentations surely blooming bruises. She feels herself gasping into Abby’s mouth as she adjusts her weight, the movement angling the seam of her jeans right against Abby’s stomach, and the friction.

The friction.

She keens into Abby’s mouth. She seems to notice, because there’s a hint of a grin splitting her lips, and she gingerly presses her weight forwards whilst kissing her. The movement strikes against her core and she’s gasping again, groaning gently into Abby’s smirk. 

Abby uses the moment to pivot on her heels and hitch Ellie further up her waist. Ellie’s fingers scramble and dig into her sides for support as she begins walking them backwards, then rotates the rest of the way and Abby heads down the steps to her bed.

Oh, fuck, her bed.

She’s dropped weightly at the foot and then Abby’s ducking, her hand propped up on the upper bunk of the bed-frame, and kisses her passionately. When Ellie absolutely melts, she uses the momentum to shove her down until her back hits the mattress. Hard.

There’s something about Abby dipping onto the bed that makes her pulse swoop and quicken right back up. It feels different, firstly — with the way Abby’s knees weigh into the mattress on either side of her hips, and they’re sinking imperceptibly lower into the foam.

There’s a metaphor in that somewhere but she doesn’t catch it.

Regardless, it’s light years from the concrete of the aquarium, bent over railings and glass and definitely better on her knees than eating Abby out on backstage linoleum.

It feels more intimate.

Ellie meets Abby’s kisses with enthusiasm as she relaxes the majority of her weight between the concave of her thighs. The pressure causes a hiss to spill from her teeth and when Abby rolls her hips teasingly Ellie’s on the cusp of hitting her for how unfairly electric it feels.

After a few moments, Abby travels hastily southward. The tension, hot in the back of her throat, causes Ellie’s toes to curl from the sensation of a warm mouth meeting her jugular. 

Abby’s lips find a sensitive spot underside her jaw and sucks, drawing the skin between her teeth.

It stings.

“Fuck,” Spills out of her mouth, heady and rushed, and every muscle in Ellie’s body tenses at the vibration of Abby’s chuckle against her throat.

And as Abby’s weight confines her to sink slowly into the mattress, all of Ellie’s senses melt into a singular, electric warmth.

Fuck is right.

Abby’s tongue bathes a stripe up her neck. Her hips stutter and chase after nothing, anything, and the breath from her chuckle chills against the saliva on her throat.

“Needy, are you?”

Deep in the recesses of her mind, it gives Ellie pause. She’s suddenly aware of a few pinpoint sensations; her fingers digging ugly marks into Abby’s forearm, the sheets fisted between her knuckles. The laboured quality of her breathing, her lungs fighting against Abby’s pressure on her ribs. 

She’s ruined, actually.

Further than Ellie will ever be able to reconcile. She’d practically raced past the point of no return lacking foresight and a care.

And maybe Ellie’s okay with that.

.

If there’s one thing Ellie could stake her life on it’s that Abby isn’t nice. She’s a brutal opponent, a vicious fighter and, well. 

Abby’s never been nice, and she as hell doesn’t betray that here. 

She doesn’t work her up, and she doesn’t ask.

Just teases her entrance until Ellie’s hips jump with the intrusion. Presses in, slow and molten, with two fingers. She slides until her knuckles hit, hilt-deep, and the noise Ellie releases is nothing short of embarrassing.

God, the fucking stretch. Ellie moans.

Maybe she’s oversensitive, maybe it’s the stimulation, but even with her eyes shut tight she can hear the way Abby grins. The split of her lips when they part, the breathy chuckle that passes through her teeth.

“They feel good inside you?”

Abby rewards her with a curl of her fingers, just barely. Ellie feels like she might pass out.

.

Abby’s movements bleed through her. It’s so fucking intimate — every thrust pushes her further up the bed and then back down onto Abby’s fingers. 

Ellie hoists a leg around Abby’s waist and gasps into her mouth before bracing herself against the pistoning force of her hand.

They’re both sweaty and kind of gross, and the combined noises of the slick between Ellie’s thighs that Abby’s playing like an instrument with the creaking shift-slap of the bed against the wall are nothing short of vile. 

Comparing it to anything remotely holy would be sacrilegious, but Ellie feels like she’s having her own personal second coming.

It’s an act of passage, what they’re unable to stop doing, a way to experience and release their shared trauma.

She wants, no, needs — to feel more. 

And by God does Abby deliver.

With an encouraging squeeze, Abby’s mouth travels from the shell of Ellie’s ear. The sudden auditory change is disorienting but she’s distracted by Abby sucking the skin of her neck, her chest. All up and down, venturing lower, and warmth pools in between her thighs at the sight of Abby mouthily making her way to that apex, humming into her skin.

Ellie lets her teeth play into the flesh there, branding rings and bruises into the sensitive crux of her inner thigh. 

At the initial touch of Abby’s tongue to her folds, and the shudder violently playing on her spine, she rethinks her stance entirely.

It is a religious experience.

.

Abby’s teeth sink into the side of her neck, marking her, as Ellie cums the first time.

The second round, Ellie takes her fingers slow and deep, and allows Abby to watch. She’s sitting atop her thighs, shameless and fluid, riding with rhythms that have her breath catching in the back of her throat.

She’s gone, even with Abby’s hand snaking around up and around her throat, her thumb fingering into the soreness there. Even with the pressure on the indentation, flaming and red and branded, and then eventually around her neck.

“Let me make you cum again,” Abby whispers.

Like Ellie needed any convincing.

.

Vices are a hard thing to come by, but they’re also nearly impossible to stray from. 

Ellie’s stuck between deciding if her vice is the visceral image of Abby wiping her chin after her third consecutive orgasm and pressing her slick thumb past her lips, or if it’s the way she hums into her mouth and the vibration tickles her teeth.

When Ellie flounders, spitting out gasps and insults, something one is akin to do after being thoroughly exhausted and overstimulated past the point of recovery.

When she blurts, heady and flushed, an intoxicated and irrational laughter lilting her voice, “Stop being so fucking good at that.”

Abby breathes into her mouth.

“I won’t. Not with anyone,” She adds pointedly, “Not with you.”

.

“Can you stay?”

The arm draped over her side shifts hesitantly. Ellie glances at the clock and fights the urge to tense at the hour. After thoroughly repaying Abby for her efforts with multiple rounds of equal attention, they almost immediately crashed from sheer exhaustion.

But the post-coital haze is beginning to wear off, and Ellie’s shredding all of her decency to battle the first licks of anxiety that start to set in.

“I should really get going.”

There’s a finality in her tone that makes Ellie think Abby won’t argue, but when she moves to slide off the mattress Abby catches her by the arm.

“Hey, wait—“

Ellie turns to look at her for the first time in hours. She pretends not to notice the way Abby tries and fails to hide the disappointment in her voice, or how it’s written all over her face. 

“Let me make you dinner,” She continues, brows furrowed. “You said you hadn’t eaten, right?”

Ellie bites her lip and tosses a skeptical look at the time. It’s four hours past the rotation she had her best bet of slipping by unnoticed, but something about staying without the excuse of physical need doesn’t turn right in her stomach. Guilt.

“Abby…”

“Just this once, I promise.”

The sheets pool around Abby’s waist where she sits up, looking partly like her entire life depends on convincing Ellie to stay a few hours.

Who is in the middle of mulling over the thought in her mind, half-ready to decline and half-ready to push her back down and think about it later, when their resolve is broken by a knock at the door.

Ellie meets her eyes in a mild state of panic. Abby immediately swings off the bed while they trade positions, Ellie throwing the covers over herself in an attempt to make herself less visible. 

“Abby?”

It’s a man’s voice, slightly thick with an accent and confusion. Ellie hears Abby curse under her breath as she scrambles to shuffle her sweatpants on and then to the door.

Abby unlocks the deadbolt in record time before throwing a glance back to Ellie and gesturing impatiently to hide. 

She ducks cowardly and tries to flatten herself as much as possible to the mattress while the door barely creaks open.

There’s a conversation that drowns out in the background as Abby convinces who Ellie learns is her roommate, Manny, to make himself scarce. She’s thankfully hidden from view, but the position she’s in offers a perfect shot of Abby’s shoulders and her arm propped up on the doorframe, shielding her from Manny’s gaze.

A brief argument ensues before there’s a resolute slam, and Ellie hears a sigh of relief before she emerges guiltily from her pile of sheets.

The sound of Abby’s footsteps thudding down the stairs is strikingly loud in comparison to the wild beating of her own heart. 

She’s half dressed when Abby reaches the bottom and meets her gaze.

“Dinner?”

.

The next few hours were remotely uneventful, save for the lack of Ellie managing to ignite a makeshift pot holder aflame their first attempt at a meal. Abby banished a red-faced Ellie to the counter and they shared the easiest, most-likely-not-to-be-catastrophic meal two can possibly have:

Spaghetti.

And after the bowls were thoroughly scraped and clothes were repurposed, there was a calm to the atmosphere that both soothed Ellie’s mind and threatened her stability.

It could be noticed that there was a pointed avoidance of real conversation — anything outside of the closed space of the room they shared was left out.

Ellie has been inching towards the door for what seems like eons now. 

Not from a need to escape, no — in fact, it feels like the exact opposite. While there was an unspoken rule to be at least ten feet away from the other, juxtaposing the entirety of their earlier actions, Ellie can’t seem to claw her way away from Abby.

It’s hard. Unexplainably.

Now, after a gratuitous period of dish-washing, Ellie’s sitting roughly a yard away from the door and at a perfect distance to stare shamelessly at the way Abby’s forearms gleam with suds from the sink.

“Anyway,” Abby cuts off abruptly from the third time she’d unnecessarily explained the patrol rotations of the night.

“Yeah, I got it, thank you.”

Ellie waves the hastily scribbled-over map and clears her throat as Abby turns from drying her hands. It’s noticeably difficult looking at Abby now, with her hair down and unbraided, changed into a soft muscle shirt while she’s fully dressed and nearly out the door. 

Abby meets her eye with a raise of her brow, gestures to the lock when Ellie doesn’t say anything and nods. It seems the time for her exit has finally dawned upon them, like other occasions before, but there’s something different about the way the air feels thick and heavy with something Ellie can’t quite put her finger on.

She shuffles awkwardly parallel to the door as Abby touches the deadbolt for the third time that night, and the position they’re in reminds Ellie of hours earlier, blocked in.

‘Will I see you again?’ lingers in the air around them, and although Abby doesn’t explicitly ask it, she might as well have.

“You headed back to Jackson?”

Ellie grimaces, tightens the strap of her backpack around her shoulder before toeing the floor in front of her. Jackson, her home, where she lived with — well. She purposely avoids the intensity of Abby’s gaze, and realizes she has absolutely no idea.

She knows she should. 

She knows she should want to, rather.

“Well,” Ellie sighs, “I surprised you this time, didn’t I?”

Abby nods. There’s something unspoken in the look they share, and Ellie’s reminded of a time years prior with a girl much younger than they are now. 

Briefly, Ellie wonders if that girl would be proud of her now.

But she doesn’t think about it too hard. Instead, when Abby opens her mouth to speak — presumably a goodbye — Ellie mirrors Abby’s earliest actions and allows herself one last time to feel.

She claims Abby’s lips in a kiss, and although there’s no immediate strike of flame, an incessant need to take or be claimed, Ellie finds it’s enough.

The warmth and the heat of Abby’s mouth against her own, the shuddered exhale against her lips, the way her hands find Ellie’s waist and hold her there. The gentle tongue that slips against her own, tasting of hesitance and uncharted longing.

Ellie pulls away before it gets too much, separating from Abby with a shaking gasp and finally finding what she’d been both fighting against and searching for — that ache, a scary hollowness in her ribs she knows will open the second she goes.

It’s enough to fuel her escape, ignoring the complaints in her chest as Ellie shrugs her backpack and shoulders past the door.

She doesn’t look back after it closes.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @elliedina and join my abby server https://discord.gg/ekCFrSA


End file.
